December 09, 2015

This from the salesman in a small electronics store in Tehran where I am trying to find a charger cable for my iphone.

“The real charger is 850,000 riyals ($25) and the fake is 400,000 riyals ($11.75) but the fake will stop working in 2 or 3 weeks.”

I am impressed by his honesty regarding his counterfeit Apple merchandise because I can’t tell the difference from the packaging, and he is unlikely to ever see me again. As I also need a wall plug which costs another $25, and my trip is almost 3 weeks long I take the risk and buy the real USB cable, but the fake wall plug. My phone doesn’t blow up, but the screen freezes twice and I have to wait for the battery to drain to re-start it, and the charge never once holds properly. Twenty photos and the battery is stone dead.

Poster seen at Hamadan, western Iran

I am not visiting Iran for the first time as part of the tourist onslaught now that the country is ‘opening up’. I have been leading tours to Iran for 15 years much to the surprise of many Americans who are amazed to learn that they are allowed into Iran. Other Americans remain convinced that if they were to go, they would be kidnapped, shot or otherwise inventively done in, before they left the airport. Most of the people traveling with me are retired, and almost all of them say that friends and family tried in vain to dissuade them from going.

Iranians know quite well how their country is viewed by many in the United States, and are therefore doubly delighted to see us, “we love America, we are very happy you are here, welcome to Iran.” We are not long in the country when a restaurant owner beams delightedly on hearing we are from the United States, “Obama GOOD, Rouhani GOOD,” he makes the gesture of a turbaned head, “VERRY bad!” he roars. Rouhani is a cleric too but we know what he means. We are greeted the same way everywhere, I have a sense of restrained optimism that I didn't see a year ago. “We hope Khameini and some of our mullahs do not say anything to give any excuse to prevent new relations between our countries,” we are told more than once, in reference to the Supreme Leader who is known for his anti-US views.

One of the few "Great Satan" slogans that remain, Tehran

Iranians are a proud people, their country has more than 2500 years of civilization behind it and they have not enjoyed their decades of isolation in the international arena. Their pride in their long history, a history suffused with tremendous achievement in science and the arts of which most westerners are woefully unaware, means they do not appreciate being lectured to as if they were some recently-minted statelet. Iran’s geography means its history has been eventful and in the last century alone it was subject to the demands of its powerful neighbors Russia (and later the Soviet Union), and Britain, as in British India which included Pakistan, one of seven countries that borders Iran. (The others are Afghanistan, Turkmenistan, Azerbaijan, Armenia, Turkey and Iraq.)

Thirty-six years on from the Islamic Revolution that brought down the Shah, a large number of young and educated Iranians are tired of the way the government runs things but this does not mean they want a return to the old days. Disparate groups of Iranians came together in common cause prior to 1979, in part to rid themselves of external domination and this sentiment has not changed, they know that to effect real change they must do it themselves. Direct confrontation with the government has not produced the desired results and these days many young Iranians have turned to social activism, concentrating on issues like the environment rather than focusing on politics.

***

Tehran gets short shrift; despite its status as the nation’s capital, it is a city noted chiefly for its pollution and horrendous traffic and both are true. But it is also a city of stately trees and world-class museums, and on day one every visitor to Tehran goes to the Jewels Museum which is housed in the basement of the National Bank. A tourist group used to be a rarity and you could wander round admiring the huge cache of gems at will, but these days are gone and now a crush of goggle-eyed tourists gasp at trays piled with loose rubies, diamonds and emeralds and cases of jewel-encrusted daggers, swords and pistols. Delicate, turquoise-studded coffee cups and bejeweled water pipes vie for attention alongside shelves of mounted aigrettes made not of feathers, but sprays and cascades of rubies, diamonds, emeralds and pearls.

Detail of the 18th century Kiani crown worn by the hirsute Fath-Ali Shah.Picture taken from Treasury of National Jewels brochure which I buy and can use because Iran has no copyright law. (Cameras are forbidden inside the museum.)

Tiaras and imperial crowns, each accorded an individual glass case, are made up of hundreds of roughly-cut precious stones, while more modern diadems have matching robin’s egg turquoise stones, and faceted diamonds that sparkle in the darkened crypt. Mounds of ruby and emerald cabochons lie next to an array of two-inch square emeralds with seals and talismanic writings in intaglio. Other display cases contain rows of tassels made up of multiple strands of miniature seed pearls, and gold-embroidered mantles. The collection is priceless, it makes the British Crown Jewels look like a bagatelle.

Detail from the pale pink 'Sea of Light' diamond. It weighs approx. 182 carats and is framed with 457 diamonds and 4 rubies.

As you might expect, Tehran has a carpet museum where not only are there exquisite old and new creations from every region and tribe in the country, but one learns about the difference between a Persian knot and a Turkish knot, the former naturally being infinitely superior. This fact is considered to be of such importance that it is rendered in three languages and in braille. We learn that the number of knots per square inch is only relevant in “city” carpets and not in tribal rugs, and that the best, and certainly the oldest carpets, are dyed using natural dyes including pomegranate skin, onion skin, tobacco, tree bark, walnut shells, saffron, madder and indigo. It was the Venetians who first imported Persian rugs to Europe in the 14th century and Henry VIII who introduced them to England in the 16th century. Rugs took a few years to catch on, the first known carpet was woven some time between 200-500BCE, fragments of which are in the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg.

Golestan Palace, Tehran

13th century opalescent tiled mihrab

On to the third must-see museum, the National Museum, which has a large collection of millennia-old Iranian pottery, some Parthian pieces - including an equestrian warrior wearing chaps, which we are humbled to discover were not invented in the American West - tiny Lurestan bronzes, and a copy of Hammurabi’s stele containing Babylon’s civil and criminal code written in Akkadian cuneiform (the original is in the Louvre in Paris). From Persepolis is a large frieze depicting Darius on his throne, with his son, Xerxes, behind him, accepting homage from his subjects. The Persian officer ushering in the humble citizenry holds his spear on top of his shoe, Zoroastrians did not pollute the earth with a weapon. And the citizens did not sully the rarified air around the king with their plebeian breath, they covered their mouth with the hand when they greeted him.

The Islamic wing of the museum has finally re-opened after years of renovation; some of the most exquisite treasures include a 13th century luster-tile mihrab from Qom, 10th century ceramic dishes from Nishapur, 13th century carved wooden doors and illuminated Qurans from different eras. All items in the collection originate in Iran.

14th century mihrab of carved stucco

Before leaving Tehran we visit Sa’adabad Palace, an uninviting pile of marble floors and pillars, high ceilings, large formal rooms and enormous hand-made Persian carpets. Home of the last Shah, it feels more like the headquarters of a well-funded institute. His father’s palace, the Green Palace, is a smaller but more regal little number of mosaic glass ceilings, glittering crystal chandeliers, lushly draped brocades and tasseled passementerie. Both palaces are beautifully set in extensive plane-tree’d grounds with views of the Alborz mountains.

The culturally-illiterate military man, Reza Khan (Shah), Commander of the Persian Cossacks, was 'imposed' on Iran by Britain and Russia in 1923, who then forced him to abdicate in 1941 when they discovered he was not quite as malleable as they’d supposed. Also, they felt he was decidedly too pro-German. (The whole situation was rather more complex than this bare-bones, pared down version.....) He was sent into exile whereupon his son stepped in as Shah, but the boots of Reza Shah were too big for his vacillating son to fill and in something of a pitiful metaphor, outside the son’s cheerless abode stands an enormous pair of bronze cavalry boots, the bottom half of Reza Shah. One old man stops on his way to the palace to bestow a reverential kiss on the giant boots. I am surprised as I have never seen such a thing before but perhaps I shouldn't be, historically Iran was always a monarchy and if young people want no more of it, many elderly Iranians look back wistfully to an earlier, more ordered time that the Shah’s father represents.

Reza Shah's boots

A group of younger locals visiting the palace is less nostalgic; opposite the grand entrance to Sa’adabad Palace is a statue of Arash the Archer, a character from the Shahnameh or Book of Kings, Iran’s legendary and factual history. To settle a land dispute between Iran and Turan (a mythical region that corresponds roughly to parts of modern-day Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and Afghanistan), it was agreed that Arash would shoot an arrow; all the land within the arrow-shot would belong to Iran, whatever lay outside of it would belong to Turan. But instead of facing north-east as he should, Arash and his bow and arrow faces south-west, “look, he is aiming in the direction of Saudi Arabia”, one of the young men quips wickedly.

Arash the Archer

There has never been any love lost between Iran and its Arab neighbors, especially Saudi Arabia. I suspect that Iranians have still not fully got over the fact that they were defeated in 637CE by a throng of invading Arabs. One has the feeling that they still ask themselves what happened, how did their sophisticated civilization get overrun by a ragtag band of desert illiterates from across the water? (The rigid caste system practiced by the Sassanians undoubtedly had a lot to do with it.) Aside from the occasional trading of barbs, the Aryan/Semitic rivalry has long been one of muted mutual antagonism, but these days hostilities are out in the open; Iranian support for the renegade Houthis in Yemen versus Saudi support for the ousted president, Iranian support for Assad in Syria and Hezbollah in Lebanon, versus Saudi support for Islamist militias opposed to Assad, not to mention the Iranian forces operating in Arab Iraq - all has contributed to distrust of the other’s intentions.

But the catalyst for the most recent war of words was the death of hundreds of hajis in Mecca in October, including almost 500 from Iran. Iranian clergy and media called the Saudis liars for not telling the truth about what happened and for giving false information on the numbers of dead. (Independent sources cite many hundreds more than the official Saudi figure.) The Saudis countered that the Iranians were politicizing a tragedy. Iranians called the Saudis irresponsible, incompetent and unfit to manage the annual Haj. The Saudis allegedly said it was the destiny of the dead pilgrims to die in Mecca. “They didn’t die because of God’s will, they died because of your incompetence,” Iran jeered. All of this is faithfully reported on Press TV, an Iranian English-language channel based in London. It is too droll that Iran has taken advantage of British freedom of speech to base Press TV there because it is so predictably anti-western in content that it is positively entertaining. Facts are never allowed to get in the way of a story, although in this regard Press TV is hardly an exception.

This is illustrated as we chat with some merchants in the Tabriz bazaar, they are happy to see Americans but bemoan our politics. “We see terrible images of dead Yemeni children killed by bombs that your government gives to the Saudis. How can this be right?” We agree that it is deplorable, but someone in the group pipes up, “But we see terrible images of dead Syrian children killed by Assad’s barrel bombs and your government supports him. How is that right?” We are interrupted as tea arrives, “It is not right”, one man with a neatly-trimmed beard concedes, “you see dead Syrians and we see dead Yemenis. It is all politics, it is a kind of game.”

Grand Mosque, Tabriz

Later, back at the hotel, a tall and stately Iranian man shares the elevator. “How do you like Iran?” he intones gravely in perfect English. I give my stock answer, “I have been here many times and am always delighted by how warmly we are received by ordinary Iranians.”

“Iranians are very hospitable” he agrees, “we are a cultured people, not like the Arabs. In Syria they are very unfriendly, they have always acted as if nothing could ever happen to them and now they are begging at Europe’s door.”

I am not surprised by what he thinks, but that he has given voice to it is unusual, the exaggeratedly polite Iranians generally hold their counsel on such potentially contentious issues, especially with people they do not know. I feel compelled to say that I also know Syria well and that we have always had the warmest of welcomes from Syrians too, to which he reluctantly grants, “perhaps it is just Iranians they do not like. They do not welcome us.”

He may have a point; ever since Syria and Iran became official BFF’s, large numbers of Iranian pilgrims descend on Damascus year-round to visit shrines. (Shrine-visiting for Shia Muslims is akin to what the Grand Tour of Europe used to be for English aristocrats and luminaries, it is 'what you do’.) Among many, they visit the head of Hussein in the Ummayad Mosque and the shrines of the Prophet’s granddaughter Zaynab, and his great-granddaughter Ruqqaya, indeed Iranian money has built lavishly gilded and mirrored mausolea over the tombs of the two women. A large part of ritual lament in Shi’a Islam involves wailing and keening which Sunnis find abhorrent, and Damascenes lament the lamenting. “I do not mind Iranians but I do not like what they are doing to this city, they wander from shrine to shrine moaning and crying as if it all happened yesterday and not fourteen hundred years ago,” is a version of a statement I heard more than once. (All of this lamentation dates to 680AD and the martyring of Hussein, the Shi’a’s third Imam, who was killed at Kerbala in present-day Iraq.) One dissenting voice does not policy make, but given the other anti-Arab rumblings that many Iranians no longer bother to keep quiet about, perhaps Basher al-Assad has good reason to keep in with Russia, he may fear that under the right conditions, Iran would drop him like a hot cake. But many Iranians are concerned about ISIS, “We are Shi'a, they hate us more than they hate you” we are told by several, “you should be helping us to get rid of them”.

Gold bangles in the Gold Souk of Zanjan

There is no getting away from the fact that Iran is in the midst of a prolonged drought. Lake Urumiyeh in the north-west has lost 90% of its volume in the past 30 years and salt blowing off the lake's 'new' saltflats pollutes the air with a white haze. Isfahan’s Zarudeh river barely exists - the little water there is, is dammed for irrigation because, like California, Iran has an important agricultural industry - and the city’s fabled bridges are piteously reduced to spanning a wide and shallow trough of pebbles, sand and reeds. In Shiraz, the Dry River is more aptly named than was intended, because the ‘dry’ that was seasonal is now more permanent.

Qajar Pavilion, Fin Garden, Kashan

Iran is largely covered by desert, but to the north and west the mountains’ icy thaw watered the cities in the foothills every spring. Because of its scarcity, Iranians gloried in this precious resource, using fountains, pools and water-channels as part of their sumptuous formal gardens. Even their carpets featured designs of flowers and leafy trees which was intended to "bring the outside world indoors". Persian gardens are still revered and indeed the English word ‘paradise’ is derived from paridaeza, a Persian word meaning ‘walled garden’.

It is dismal to see Shiraz without its familiar tinkling fountains and reflecting pools. Renown for its rose gardens, in these days of drought I notice some have been dug up. But cities must plow on, no pun intended, and Shiraz is not sitting on past glories, it has plunged ahead and re-invented itself as a regional capital of cosmetic surgery. Dubai dowagers, intent on regaining or retaining their youth, regularly trot across the Persian Gulf for a bit of nip/tuck, as do balding Egyptian men crying out for a hair transplant. This is not a stretch because Iran is already the world capital of rhinoplasty, as thousands of Iranian men and women strolling around with the telltale bandage over their nose attest. And when you look carefully, it is impossible not to notice the many splendidly sculpted schnozes, not all of which were bestowed by nature.Eram Bagh Gardens, Shiraz in happier days

It is perhaps fitting therefore that it is in Shiraz that I become acquainted with Iranian medical care and all because of a nose. In 7 days I make 7 visits to 4 different hospitals in 2 cities, of which 5 are visits to the emergency room, 3 in the middle of the night. To wit, one of the people traveling with me who had a cold, suffered several runaway nosebleeds with attendant spiking blood pressure. Because said traveler has hypertension, his blood pressure was checked more often in a week than mine has been checked in my entire life. He had 2 EKG’s, his nose was packed with antibiotic-soaked gauze, unpacked 3 days later, then packed again a day after that when there was still some bleeding, he received more nitro-glycerin and other pills, antibiotics and saline solutions than a small-town pharmacy might reasonably be expected to stock, and scored an appointment with a cardio-vascular specialist on 5 hours notice. The bill for this week-long medical saga was $111.88. I have no idea what the average cost of such a drama would be in the United States, but there would certainly be many more digits and a comma or two involved. When the patient returned to the US he was given the all-clear by a specialist. It’s just a thought, but given the undeniable level of skill of their surgeons and their competitive pricing model, I predict a boom in medical tourism just as soon as sanctions are lifted.

The episode gave us the chance to spend two extra nights at Shiraz’s Homa hotel which was once an Intercontinental, built in time for the Shah to have his star-studded spectacular at Persepolis in 1971, an event to which most Iranians were not invited and where the only Iranian connection to the whole affair was the caviar. After the Islamic Revolution a 'Death to America' style banner was raised above the hotel entrance and Intercontinental went away. The banner was removed many years ago and although Intercontinental has not yet returned, perhaps it should because with all the trade delegations and regular tourists, not to mention the soon-to-be burgeoning medical tourists, the country will need many more hotels.

Incidentally, despite the fact that the price is still high, I was startled to discover that caviar is now farmed in the Caspian Sea. Farmed caviar? Whatever next? Farmed caviar from China? Well yes, as a matter of fact. There is no more wild sturgeon, the fish is another victim of over-fishing, poaching and pollution. Will caviar now go the way of lark’s tongues? Where is the elitism in eating the eggs of a farmed fish?

Gate of All Nations, Persepolis

And speaking of Persepolis, pre-nosebleed saga we drove there from Shiraz to admire the Gate of All Nations with its monumental Assyrian-style centaurs and the magnificent Apadana Staircase. But first we were obliged to spend some time explaining America’s political process to a group of perplexed locals, because of yet another mass shooting in the United States. “Why can’t you pass any laws limiting the sale of guns?” they ask, not unreasonably. “How much time do you have?” reply the Americans in unison.

In Iran hardly anyone owns a gun of any sort because the paperwork is so onerous that the grizzliest of Aryan macho-men has been known to lose the will to live when faced with Iranian bureaucracy. After the first hurdle of actually obtaining the permit, there is the portentous matter of renewing it. As an example, let us imagine that a gun owner, in a ghastly error, has shot a female mountain goat instead of a male since the last permit was granted. Now the whole procedure shifts up a gear or two, stiff penalties are added to the bureaucratic morass, the renewal takes longer - at which point most sensible people give up, voluntarily surrender their gun and take up crocheting. In Iran it is not even legal to shoot someone who has entered your house and is making off with all you possess. You may whack the intruder over the head with a rifle butt, but you may not shoot him.

Apadana Staircase, Persepolis

When Persepolis was built in 518BCE by Darius the Great, Persia had a massive empire and was the undisputed ruler of a vast swathe of the known world. It all came crashing down in 330BCE when Alexander the Great defeated Darius III, destroyed Persepolis and became the greatest conqueror the world had yet seen. When Alexander died only 3 years later, his empire split into three and crumbled in turn. The thing I like about ruins is that they are a grand poke in the eye to hubris because if nothing else, they remind us that nothing lasts no matter how powerful. As we sat among the ruins with the descendants of the ancient world’s most powerful empires discussing the unfathomable gun violence in the United States, it was sobering to think that many centuries hence, our descendants will be sitting among the ruins of Washington, perhaps on the disintegrated steps of the Lincoln memorial, mulling over why the then most powerful nation on earth was unable or unwilling to do anything about it.

***

Giggling gaggles of schoolgirls with a ringleader wielding the dreaded selfie stick, huddle in noisy scrums at every tourist spot in the country. At Persepolis, it used to be that schoolgirls rushed up to talk to you, notebook in hand begging you to write a few lines. Now they rush up and insist that you be in their selfie. It seems unfair to deny them their youthful narcissism in a country where they are obliged to shroud themselves, so I don’t. I smile and insert myself into the fray, then take a picture of them taking another selfie. We are all mad.

Selfie aficionados at Fin Garden, Kashan

Not every Iranian woman is wearing chador. The country’s fashionistas are luxuriating in a moment of lax application of the law, by wearing the mandatory headscarf way back on the head, showing off thick, glossy manes and tumbling tresses. They wear heavy make-up, short and tight-fitting coats, skinny jeans, strappy sandals and their feet are bare with painted toenails. All of this is quite unlawful because Iran’s constitution demands that women show only their face and hands. Meanwhile some European tourists have upped the ante by strolling around in scarves tied at the back of the neck, pirate-style, capri pants, and tops that barely cover their bottoms. Local guides don’t say anything because in Iranian culture it is not the done thing to criticize a guest, however errant, but European tour operators should know better.

Iranian women push the laws well beyond the limit, for which I heartily applaud them - it is absurd that men have decided what women must wear - but they do it knowing that the day will come when the clerics decide enough is enough and begin once again to apply the letter of the law and shove the women bare-faced, back under the chador. The sartorial crackdowns never last but they are irksome, and insouciant Latin ladies ignoring the law merely hasten the day. Meanwhile the delinquent suburban housewives are long gone. It is not cool.

Crown of David temple, one of several working synagogues in Isfahan, where Hebrew is taught.

I include these two photographs as many people will be surprised to learn that Christians, Jews and Zoroastrians are allowed freedom of worship in Iran. It was Cyrus the Great, founder of the Persian Empire, who freed the Jews from the Babylonian Captivity and Jews have been an integral part of Iran for millennia. There are many different Christian sects but the majority are Armenian. This cathedral however is no longer a working church, it is located near the border with Armenia and Azerbaijan and nowadays most Armenian-Iranians live and work in Tehran and Isfahan. Iran has good relations with Armenia, so much so that busloads of Iranians trundle off to Yerevan for holidays and long weekends.

The Armenian Cathedral of St Stephanos, Jolfa, in north-western Iran.

On our last day in Isfahan we visit the old Safavid pleasure palace of Hasht Behesht. At the back of the palace is a small tiled panel which depicts the tale of a man who struck up a friendship with a bear. The bear is kind but, as everyone knows except the man, none too bright. One day when the man falls asleep the bear sits and watches over him. After a while the bear notices that flies are buzzing incessantly around his face, and afraid that the noise will wake him, it picks up a large rock and crashes it down onto the flies, killing them all. The rock also fatally smashes the man’s skull. The moral of the story is that if you are foolish enough to choose your friends unwisely, when the outcome is disastrous you have only yourself to blame. Iranians quite like to tell this story.

November 18, 2013

The Zayandeh river in Isfahan has completely dried up in a combination of damming the river upstream for irrigation and lack of rain at the end of the dry season. It is a forlorn scene, the river no longer reflects the beauty of the city's bridges which now straddle a field across which people now walk. The bridges have lost their purpose.

Si-o-Se Pol Bridge and field

We crossed the river to visit New Jolfa, the Armenian Christian part of Isfahan named after the original Jolfa in northern Iran, near the Armenian border. For the first time we were allowed to take pictures inside Vank Cathedral. It has an Islamic dome and turquoise tile below the dado as is found in many Iranian mosques, but there all resemblance ends, because the interior is full of images of seraphim and saints, but also some graphic pictures of the tortures of poor Saint Gregory, as well as a large and rather fearsome portayal of hell.

Vank Cathedral, New Jolfa, Isfahan

Visiting the Lotfallah Mosque later in the day is more restful, there are no gory images, just stunning tilework and calligraphy. For Muslims the Quran is the sacred Word of God, and there is no greater homage to God than to render these texts in exquisite calligraphy in a mosque or in a Quran. It is the Islamic equivalent of the Romans who burned expensive frankincense to their gods in the belief that their prayers were more likely to be answered if accompanied by fumes from the expensive resin - or the Scythians from further back in time, for whom gold was like ink. Their ceremonial rites to their gods included the use of gold figurines, and they buried their dead with gold to make sure their passing into the next life would be propitious. Calligraphy is perhaps the most admired and respected of all Islamic arts and the Persians went to great lengths to create scripts that would do justice to the message.

Lotfallah Mosque

In the evening we went to a zurkhaneh, or 'place of strength', which can best be described as a cross between a gymnasium, a fraternity and a YMCA. At the start of every performance the men jump down into a circular pit in the room, touch their fingers to the ground then bring them up to touch their foreheads and mouth in a gesture of humility and respect. The leader - and often the owner of the zurkhaneh - sits above the room with drums and bells which he uses to conduct and pace the performance. Often it is he who decides which of the men, who range from skinny teenagers to stocky, mustachioed older men, who will perform a solo in any of the disciplines, although more often one man will suddenly spontaneously break away from the rest and dance out into the middle of the pit and start whirling. But they also swing clubs around their head (most people can barely lift them), as well as heavy bands of rattling chains which they brandish from side to side above their heads.

Zurkhaneh, the descending line from the picture of Ali in the center are the breeches worn by former zurkhaneh members

During the performance classical poetry and religious quotations are recited, and short discussions take place before another round of feats of strength begins. Every zurkhaneh has pictures of Ali, the first Imam, because the Twelver Shia consider him to be the most perfect man, that one should strive to emulate.

We flew to Istanbul. We sat on the plane which was delayed by forty minutes. There was no explanation. A steward passed by. "What is the problem?" "There is no problem." "Then why are we delayed?" We are not delayed we are leaving now. Thank you." And he fled up the aisle.

View over the Bosphorus to the Asian side of Istanbul from the Cirigan Palace

A highlight of our visit to Istanbul was a private visit to Hagia Sophia. The Romans used mosaics as a floor covering which were walked on, so the material which had to be durable, was made of different types of rock. But the Byzantines also used mosiac for wall coverings and could use more delicate material such as glass, nacre and gold and silver leaf. Because most people could not read, Christian art relied on symbolism in gestures, colors and items so that people knew what story was being told or the image that was represented. Examples of this that every Christian of the time would have known were Christ and Mary, usually in Byzantine art as the Madonna or as Mother of God, portrayed in robes of blue which denoted heaven, halos in gold which meant exalted ones, the color white indicating purity, a dove as the holy spirit and peacocks which represented immortality. The church was turned into a mosque after the Muslim Conquest of Constantinople in 1453 and the mosaics were covered over. It ceased to be a mosque in 1931 and in 1935 Hagia Sophia became a museum of both Byzantine and Islamic religious art.

The tulip became a widely-used motif in the exquisite tilework of mosques, madrasas, mausolea, palaces and hammams for which Turkey, and Iznik, in particular was renown. Tulip in Persian and Turkish is laleh, which, written looks like Allah. The crescent moon of Islam is called hillal in Arabic which when written is Allah back to front. Many Sufis delighted in such sacred allegory although perhaps the choice of decor was a decision not of arcane metaphor but simply that the tulip is a pretty flower. Although, on the flag of Iran in the center is a stylized calligraphic tulip, a flower which in Iran denotes suffering and martyrdom, while the letters forming the tulips spell Allah, or perhaps laleh.

Hagia Sophia

In Christianity religious imagery was banned during the reign of Pope Leo III from 717-741, a ban that lasted until 843. The iconoclasm was based on the Ten Commandments in the Old Testament which forbade the making and worshipping of any graven image. However the iconoclasts ultimately lost the argument when it was pointed out that to forbid images of Christ's suffering was a denial of his human side, his incarnation and his time on earth. Islam meanwhile followed Judaism in forbidding the representation of humans and animals in religious art.

At the far end of the Basilica cisterns which are opposite Hagia Sophia, are two pillars that sit on the base of a head of Medusa, a gorgon with snakes for hair, who had the power to turn anyone who looked at her into stone with just one malevolent gaze from her ice-blue eyes. Her head was lopped off by Perseus and given to the goddess Athena to place in her shield as a protective device. It is undoubtedly the source of the perennial blue eye talismans found all over Turkey and Greece - protection from the evil eye.

Basilica cisterns

The Great Silk Road ends in Rome. A route that tranformed the world not only because of trade, but in the exchange of ideas in religion, art and craft, knowledge and technology, fostering both unity and change in politics and culture from China to Rome. Peoples and tribes who lived along the Silk Road wanted a piece of the action and their participation re-shaped the cultural and political landscape in areas far removed from the immediate cities that made up the Silk Road. The Parthians, the Kushans and the Sogdians were initially nomadic tribes that became powerful empires and enablers of the cultural exchange.

During the Mongol Empire it was said a maiden could walk safely from one end of the empire to the other with a pan of gold on her head. With the fragmenting of the empire, by the 15th century it was no longer as safe for traders and when sea routes across the Indian Ocean opened up, it spelled the end of the great trans-Asiatic land route.

And the transformation continues. Before the domestication of the camel as a beast of burden sometime in the second millennium BC, goods were traded in small reed boats down the Persian Gulf. Overland camel caravans took over the sea trade because they could carry more.

The Pantheon in Rome

The sea then recovered its ascendancy when the maritime silk route took over from the land route because, aside from security issues on land, with larger ships more goods could be transported. But the land route is again becoming competitive and Germany, Europe's largest exporting country, now sends much of its export goods to China by rail, which takes only a third of the travel time by sea. We ended our odyssey at the Pantheon in Rome, a building initially dedicated to pagan gods then in the 7th century turned into a church. Built more than two thousand years ago, its concrete dome is still the largest in the world. Some things never change.

November 04, 2013

The border crossing from Uzbekistan was painless largely because we were able to drive across No Man's Land to the actual Turkmen boundary at the Amu Darya river, which here is little more than a runnel. Other people not so fortunate - and not traveling with Geoex - had to traverse it on foot lugging their suitcases behind them.

On arrival at Turkmenabad we had time before catching the flight to Ashgabad, so went for dinner to a restaurant where evidently the management have had trouble with people unsure of what to do when confronted by a 'western' loo....

Turkmenistan is a wealthy country due to large reserves of natural gas. All utilities - water, gas and electricity - are free to all households, and everyone is entitled to 120 liters of gasoline (about 32 gallons) per month. Despite this Ashgabad is the only city I have ever been where there are never any traffic jams and half the time the roads are empty.

In antiquity Turkmenistan was part of the Parthian empire, and Nissa, one of their capitals, lies just outside Ashgabad. The Parthians, a nomadic tribe from the Caspian, ended up ruling a great swathe of territory east of Mesopotamia to India, after conquering the land from the Greeks under Seleucus Nicator in the 3rd century BC. The site is rarely visited and almost never by locals who are superstitious about it, because on Oct 5, 1948, some treasures from the site were removed to Tashkent and the Hermitage in St. Petersburg for 'safekeeping' (where they still are), and the next day an earthquake leveled the city.

Nissa boasts an early Zoroastrian fire temple, a religion that was once practised throughout most of Central Asia. Its origins are much disputed but Zoroaster was probably born in Balkh, in what is today Afghanistan, sometime around the 5th century BC. By the time of Cyrus the Great, founder of the Achaemenid dynasty in Iran around 500BC, Zoroastrianism was the unofficial religion. The essential tenet of the religion is the struggle of good versus evil personified by the supreme god, Ahura Mazda, versus Ahriman, the evil being, elements of which are incorporated in both Christianity and Islam. It was long thought that Zoroastrians worshipped fire and they were dismissed as fire worshippers, but this is incorrect - fire is considered pure and as such is a critical element of ritual in their temples which always have a burning flame. Although the religion largely died out in Central Asia, Zoroastrianism is still practiced in Iran and indeed many Muslim parents send their children to Zoroastrian schools as they have a high standard of education.

Ashgabad's wide and empty boulevards

Ashgabad was entirely re-built after the earthquake but since then the center of town has been re-built again, this time in white marble as decreed by the former president. Boulevards are wide, the city is liberally endowed with fountains, trees and green parks, and at night lights changing color illuminate said fountains in hues of blue, red, pink and green. It is a singularly unusual place.

The Iranian border is less than a 45 minute drive from Ashgabad, and for us was another land crossing. This time there weren't miles of trucks, but there was a goodly number of Turkmen women seeking entry into Iran to buy things to take home and sell. Turkmen women are serious traders who do their Silk Road credentials proud. All flights from Istanbul to Ashgabad have legions of them weighed down with merchandise, and all border crossings into Iran and Uzbekistan are thronged with Turkmen women heaving great packages of goods through turnstiles, security gates and conveyor belts from one end of the border to the next. The men are nowhere to be found.

The tomb of Ferdowsi in Tus

In Iran we were fingerprinted with great apology from officials who told us they had to do it for reciprocity reasons. Our first stop after a splendid lunch of kebabs, rice and yogurt, was Tus, once a major center of learning on the Silk Road and now an inconspicuous town but for its famous denizen, Ferdowsi, who is revered in Iran for having rescued the Persian language from oblivion. In 1010 when Arabic was the lingua franca in Persia, he wrote an epic, the Shahnameh or 'Book of Kings', for which he had to translate a book from the Sassanid period written in Old Persian cuneiform, a language very different to 'modern' Persian.

His magnum opus, which took him thirty-five years to write, recounts Iran's factual and legendary history in 60,000 verses. When it was completed Ferdowsi offered it to the ruler of Khorasan, the Ghaznavid Sultan Mahmoud, who had previously offered him a fee in gold dinars. But when he was paid in silver instead, in a rage at the insult Ferdowsi divided the paltry sum between his tavern keeper and the local bath attendant and took himself off to write a savage satire to the Sultan. Overcome with remorse at his miserable treatment of the poet, Mahmoud later sent the sum in gold that had been promised but he was too late, as the caravan rolled into Tus it passed a funeral cortege on the way out. It was Ferdowsi.

Shrine of Khaje Rabe, Mashad

Nowhere else in the world I think do people lionize their poets as in Iran. It is not at all unusual for ordinary people to break into song or recitation at the tombs of their esteemed wordsmiths, and so it was here. As we trotted around the tomb listening to a commentary of the Shahnameh as it is portayed by a sculptured frieze, a short, and otherwise inconspicuous, man with a well-used, brown briefcase spontaneously broke into a great baritoned rendering of several verses from the tome. Everyone there stopped to listen and applauded heartily when he had finished. This would never happen at Shakespeare's burial place at Stratford for example, and if it did, onlookers would hurriedly dial 999 and men in white coats would soon appear with soothing words and a large syringe of sedatives.

Shrine of Khaje Rabe, Mashad with information panels about martyrs, those who have died in battle.

Most people are surprised that Americans can even travel to Iran, but Iran is not only perfectly safe, Iranians are exceptionally welcoming and friendly to tourists, especially Americans. I have traveled there many times and the effusive welcome by locals is always what American tourists are most astonished by - not the stunning architecture, not the varied scenery, not even the carpets - what amazes people is how kind Iranians are to them. On one of my last visits we met a gaggle of Revolutionary Guards who were as nice as could be and offered to share their tea and cookies with us, even after they knew we were American......

Everyone we talked to is pleased about the (slight) thaw in relations between the US and Iran, but Iranians are under no illusion that anything terribly much is going to happen overnight. When we asked what they thought about it the answer was usually a variant of, "it is welcome but we do not expect much in the short term because Iran will require an easing of sanctions before any promises are made and we don't think Congress will pass such legislation at this time." They are probably right because Congress is barely able to pass legislation to keep the country afloat, let alone have the nous to pass any sort of strategic geopolitical legislation.

What was more curious is that I have been visiting Iran regularly since 2001 and although the currency has devalued considerably since then, I cannot say that on the face of it - and admittedly my observations are limited to a few days in two cities - I saw a huge difference this time around regarding visible signs of increased poverty due to the sanctions. Our guide said he had no idea how Iranians were doing it but they are still making enough to drive around in their cars - in stark contrast to Ashgabad, traffic in Iranian cities is gridlocked at rush hour - they are still shopping - the bazaar in Mashad was a madhouse of shoppers - and they are still eating out and picnicking at night and on the weekends as they always do. There are no homeless people or beggars on the streets.

October 23, 2013

On the Kyrgyz side of the Turgurt Pass, Chinese trucks are lined up for more than 4 miles. The border has been closed for the harvest festival and now there is a backlog. The truckers do not line up quite as neatly as Chinese officials would have people line up, and are splayed unevenly over two lanes which means we cannot get through - there is a hint of ravine on our side that our bus, even with the talented Alexander at the wheel, cannot negotiate. Eventually some trucks get through the customs and immigration formalities, the line opens up and we squeeze between the queue of trucks, arriving in Naryn with enough time for a walk before dinner.

Ala-Archa Park, outside of Bishkek

The road to Bishkek is a thousand times better than before - the Chinese are building a new road between Bishkek and China, but the money for the road is a loan which nobody knows how will be repaid, because the country has few natural resources and no industry. The government is reluctant to invest in long-term plans because ministers know they are unlikely to be in power long enough to see such projects completed.

Corruption is a major problem and a classic Kyrgyz joke goes something like this; a Kyrgyz goes to visit his Kazakh friend who lives in a huge mansion in the former capital of Almaty. "How were you able to afford this amazing house? he asks his friend. "Ah, you see the new road you drove on to get to my house? Well, it is half a meter narrower on each side than it should have been and the money saved went into my pocket." The Kyrgyz absorbs this new information. A year or so later his Kazakh friend visiting him in Bishkek is astonished to find him in a house that is even larger and more luxurious than his own and asks his friend how his fortunes changed so fast. His friend taking him by the shoulder points to a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains, "Do you see that road that crosses the mountains, my friend?" "What road?" asks his friend. "Exactly," says the Kyrgyz.

But back to the real new road - the traffic all goes one way, Chinese trucks drive from China laden and go back empty. They bring Chinese goods to Doloby, the largest mart in Central Asia, just outside of Bishkek, where they are sold on to traders from Russia, Tajikistan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Pakistan, India and others. It is the 21st century Silk Road, of which China is a large part.

The Kyrgyz Parliament Building

Bishkek has one of the few remaining statues of Lenin in the former Soviet Union. He stands on his plinth, greatcoat flowing, pointing at what used to be the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Kirghiz SSR and is now the American University of Central Asia - this upsets the remaining communists in the country who see it as a historical building and want the American University to go somewhere else. And now that Kyrgyzstan has adopted the parliamentary system in lieu of the Presidential system, unfortunately Lenin is now facing the wrong way and has his back to parliament - or perhaps that is as it should be. Incidentally, in keeping with the Middle East and other parts of the planet, the student body of the American university of Central Asia is 70% female.

Lenin inadvertently pointing to the American University of Central Asia

The Kyrgyz are legendarily descended from 40 tribes, but what is more based in fact is that they came from the Yenisei area of Siberia, and were originally tall and fair. After seeing off the Uighurs to the south, they fell under the sway of the nomadic Scythians, and by the 9th century Kyrgyzstan formed a part of various Muslim khanates, followed in the 13th century by the arrival of the Mongols, who stayed. Over time the genetic make-up changed, so that now most Kyrgyz are east-Asiatic in appearance.

In the 19th century the Russians arrived and as they were anxious to people the territory, they offered potential Russian settlers to Kyrgyzstan free land and exemption from military service and taxes, which tens of thousands accepted. Many noble families opposed to the Bolsheviks settled here, as did Russian and East European Jews. The Russians intermarried with locals which over the years changed the appearance of the Kyrgyz again. Stalin added to the mix by forcing many German-Russians from the Volga and Crimea to Kyrgyzstan during the WWII years to ensure they would not be a fifth column, but with the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 most Russians went back to Russia - every family was given 250,000 rubles (approx $7890), to return - and many Germans went to a newly-unified Germany. Russian is still the most common spoken language in the capital, and many schools use Russian as the language of education with the result that many Russian Kyrgyz are not fluent in Kyrgyz, a Turkic language and the country's official language. Signs in and around the capital are written in both Cyrillic and Latin script.

A typical Kyrgyz cemetery

Russian Kyrgyz are Russian Orthodox but the Kyrgyz are mainly Muslim, which they wear lightly, with influences from their previous shamanism. Cemeteries are ornate; stele are topped with stars or Islam's crescent moon while other markers are in the shape of yurts with an eagle or a yak's tail indicating their tribal affiliation from millennia ago. Kyrgyz babies wear amulets to protect them from the evil eye and in rural areas parents may still bestow ugly names on boys in the belief that death not liking the sound of their names, will leave them to live.

By 644AD, only 12 years after the death of the Prophet, Islam had conquered North Africa, Egypt, Syria, Palestine, Mesopotamia and Persia. By the 8th century Islamic conquerors had reached as far east as the Ferghana Valley in Uzbekistan. After the Muslim defeat of China in 751AD, papermakers, metalworkers and silk weavers were captured and taken back to Baghdad. By the 12th century, papermaking had spread from Baghdad to Spain and France, while the art of silk breeding and weaving went first to Syria and then to Spain and Sicily - both then under Arab control - and from there to Italy, and France where the city of Lyons became the most important silk center in the west.

By the 10th century the Islamic empire, with its center in Baghdad, reigned supreme from Morocco to Kyrgyzstan and Muslim traders within this multinational network supplied the western Christian world with all the products from the east. Unlike the Christian world, Islam was a religion that embraced trade - Mohammed after all had been a merchant and Mecca was a trade and religious center. Merchants were often translators, dragomen (the word comes from the Arabic tergeman meaning translator), couriers, guides and informers, with all the advantages that the shared values of the Islamic world provided, a community that stretched from Fez to Ferghana.

Gur Emir, the tomb of Tamerlane

Uzbekistan

Samarkand has always held a magical sound for me because I am convinced that wanderlust was awakened after I saw a picture of one of the city's famous turquoise domes, when I was very young. I now know it was the domes of the Bibi Khanum mosque, which fell to bits because the domes were much too heavy; within days of it being open for business people praying in the mosque were bonked on the head by lumps of falling tile. Tamerlane was to blame - he forced his architects and builders to build at breakneck speed perhaps because he was anxious to be off on his next conquest. But he died in 1405, less than a year after its completion, in Otrar in present-day Kazakhstan.

Curiously, it was in Otrar in 1218 that a trade caravan sent by Genghis Khan was robbed on the orders of the Khwarezmian Shah Mohammed II, who thought it contained spies. Genghis Khan sent envoys to the Shah demanding retributution but not only was that not forthcoming, but Mohammed shaved the heads of two and lopped off the head of the third, sending the whole grisly tableau back to Genghis Khan. It was a fatal mistake that not only destroyed Otrar and the Khwarezmian empire including Samarkand, Bukhara and its capital at Konye-Urgench, but cost the lives of millions, changed the face of Central Asia and the history of the world.

Tamerlane imagined

Samarkand recovered from Genghis Khan's onslaught under Tamerlane, who made it his glittering capital. After his death, he was brought back to Samarkand and buried in the mausoleum originally built for his grandson, where he lies in the crypt, under a marker of dark green jade in the tomb.

Leaving the glories of Samarkand we drove to Bukhara on what must be some of the worst roads on earth, and which get worse with every year that passes. The Uzbeks clearly need the services of the Chinese (and not Kyrgyz) road builders, although Bukhara is worth the bumpy ride, a peaceful place with a charm that belies its bloody history.

The walls of the arg, or fortress, in Bukhara

Although the arg dates back to around the 5th century BC what exists today is largely based on the 18th century building. The arg housed the living and administrative quarters of the rulers as well as being a stronghold. It was here that the unfortunate 'Great Game' army men, Conolly and Stoddart, met their grisly end at the hands of Nasrullah Khan in 1842 when, after the resounding British military defeat in Afghanistan that same year, the psychotic khan decided that the British were not as much to be feared as he had thought. Badly damaged by the Bolsheviks in 1920, it was partially destroyed again in 1944 by the departing khan who, after looting the treasury, blew it up.

The Russians eventually conquered the Bukharan Khanate in 1868 mainly because the trio of khanates, Bukhara, Khiva and Kokand, lived in a state of perennial dispute. They used the excuse of the khans' annoying habit of enslaving Russians as the reason for conquest, although it was rather more about extending territory to keep the rival British Empire out. But the khans were brutal and details of their cruelties are well-documented. Prisoners were tortured and killed on a whim and runaways slaves often had the soles of their feet cut and filled with salt, as a punishment. After the Russian takeover the khans were allowed to rule nominally, but in 1920 the Bolsheviks launched an attack largely at the request of reformers within the khanate, and Bukhara became a Soviet Republic.

Lab-i-Hauz

Fortunately Bukharans are much more welcoming of foreigners these days and the most attention you will receive will be from carpet sellers. It is worth noting that the famous Bukhara carpets are not in fact made in Bukhara but in neighboring Turkmenistan, but because the carpets were sent to Bukhara for sale, the name stuck.

Although Uzbek is a Turkic language, Bukhara was for long in the sphere of Persian control and many Bukharans still speak Tajik, or Persian. Most older people also still speak Russian. Bukhara had an important Jewish community and although most have since emigrated, there are still at least two working synagogues. We had lunch in a house that formerly belonged to a Jewish merchant, where the current owner, a collector of Uzbek textiles and objets, made plov, the national dish, of rice, carrots, onions, chicken and spices, which was outstandingly good (it isn't always), and thus fortified we got back on the bus for the next bumpy ride to the border with Turkmenistan.

Crowns of honeysuckle and Hathor's horns, or maybe Islam's crescent moon, apsaras or flying celestials, and Buddha with crossed feet - a style that originated in Bamiyan in Afghanistan - or Buddha in graceful draped and flowing robes, a fashion directly borrowed from Ancient Greece. A stele with Arabic script in the Mosque of Xian, which itself looks like a Chinese temple complete with phoenix birds and dragons, balbals or funerary stones, near Bishkek in Kyrgyzstan, found across the vastness of Asia's steppes from China's Xinjiang province - formerly Chinese Turkestan - to Lake Van in eastern Turkey, the extent of nomadic cultures that used their superior horsemanship to create vast and powerful empires that endured from Genghis Khan until the Moguls.

The phoenix appears again in Bukhara, painted ceramic on the spandrel of the facade of Divanbegi's madrasa next to the peaceful, mulberry tree-fringed pool of Labi Hauz - for centuries Bukhara fell within Persia's purlieu and the pragmatic people of the plateau never did get quite so exercised about iconography even in religious buildings, although it is true that the madrasa was built as a caravanserai - that it is a madrasa is another tale.

Balbal with martini glass.....the first mixologist

Buddhism reached China from the west, from India and Central Asia, Nestorian Christianity went west to Iran and China because of suppression by the Byzantine Church, and Islam went west - not always by the sword, as is so often proclaimed, but largely by wandering sufis who were not always welcome at the courts of the caliphs for their unorthodox views. (Although a Muslim army did roundly defeat the Tang Emperor in 751AD, at the Battle of Talas in modern-day Kyrgystan, taking back Chinese craftsmen who made paper and gunpowder, to Baghdad where the craft spread to Europe.) Slaves and prisoners of defeated peoples were forced both eastwards and westwards and thus did knowledge spread. Manicheism - the state religion of the Uighur kingdom in the 8th century - died out in the 20th century from its beginnings in Iran in the 3rd century AD. Zoroastrianism flourished throughout Central Asia but disappeared except, ironically, in Iran where there is still a minority population with their own seat in parliament. Elements and symbols of all the religions have become intertwined in myth and legend handed down in remembered and forgotten facts, half-truths and memory. There is nothing like traveling the Silk Road to see the fluctuating confluence and overlap between East and West in art, architecture, culture, society and religion.

Ming walls and drum tower, Xian

The beginnings of the Silk Road - a term not coined until the late 19th century by Baron Richthofen, a German nobleman - were due not to trade but to politics, and in a way, it all began with the building of the Great Wall of China by the Qin Emperor Shi Huangdi in 214BC. China was a pastoral society that was constantly threatened by nomadic tribal raiders, excellent horsemen and archers who stormed in, plundered everything they could carry and rode off, and the only way China could defend itself was to build a wall to keep them out.

Although it was marginally effective, China lost so much in the way of men, horses and goods, that less than a century later Han Emperor Wudi realized that China needed more than a wall, it required political alliances to counter the nomads which the Chinese called Xiongdu, generally, if loosely, known as the Huns.

The Xiongdu who infiltrated China's western and northern borders, over time became powerful enough to push out another tribe, the Yuezhi, who became known as the Kushans, who eventually settled westwards in Bactria, or modern Afghanistan. In 138BC, thinking that the Yuezhi might be interested in forming an alliance with China against the Xiongdu, Wudi sent an emissary, Zhong Chan, to meet with them. Dutifully setting out from Xi'an with 99 men, Zhong Chan returned thirteen years later with only one other man and no political alliance, because the Yuezhi pragmatically said China was too far away to be of any use regarding their security since they were separated by the Xiongdu. Yet the efforts of Zhong Chan in opening up the outside world to China was the beginning of the Silk Road, because as he passed through the Ferghana Valley in today's south-eastern Uzbekistan, Zhong Chan discovered exceptional horses, and alfalfa which was excellent feed for them. China desperately wanted these horses to enable their horsemen to ride after the nomads whose horses were of superior quality to Chinese ponies, and to get them China bartered its silk.

Modern camel caravan; a Bactrian camel at the Singing Sands

Xian is a city of more than 10 million people. What I most like about it? The Ming walls, its traditional bell and drum towers, the Big Goose Pagoda, its excellent museum, its jewel of a mosque, and its dumplings for which it is justly famous. Apples and pomegranate orchards line the road to the Terracotta Warriors under a bleary grey sky. How China will tackle its smog may define it because pollution levels in cities are routinely 20 times higher than the accepted WHO level. Their second problem? I am convinced that every Chinese person has a smartphone, and a billion plus people using the internet at once has a dire effect as I discovered trying to open email; you might as well watch paint dry. My phone didn't work. It is all very well for techno-geeks and nerdy billionaires to tell us how connected we are as they roll out the next 'big thing', but we're not, not unless you travel with your own IT specialist - which, come to think of it, is an excellent idea, or are a bit nerdy yourself and with two clicks or screen taps can make it all work.

Dunhuang It is the harvest festival and moon cakes are the order of the day. I like the look of the magenta bean curd one which tastes OK but I confess it will not make me renounce chocolate torte. Still, we have fireworks and dancing girls and a full moon and the desert - twinkling stars in a velvet sky and sharp night air. I wonder how much camels sell for? They have feet the size of chargers and manes you could spin a kilim from and I never understand why people are not as enamored of these strangely lovable beasts as I. You could never just buy one however because who would it follow?

A puce-colored mooncake

Urumqi We come to see the mummies - tall, red-haired dessicated figures from the 3rd centry BC dug up from the desert of Taklamakan. A re-constructed figure, the 'Loulan Beauty', is striking - even now she would be considered beautiful; tall and slender with green eyes. Where did these Indo-European people come from? Xinjiang province or more accurately, Xinjiang Uighur Autonomous Region, is surrounded by Mongolia to the north-east, Russia to the north, Kazakhstan to the north-west, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Afghanistan and Pakistan to the west, India and Tibet to the south, and the rest of China to the east. The Tien Shan mountains cuts the province in two from west to east, creating the Tarim basin to the south and the Dzungaria Basin to the north where the Altai mountain range forms the border with Russia and Mongolia, the Kunlun range separates it from India and Tibet, the Karakorum mountains separates it from Pakistan and the Hindu Kush separates it from Afghanistan - it is an armchair traveler's dream. Urumqi itself, a modern city of high-rises and 8 million people, has little to commend it although it has the distinction of being the most land-locked city on earth.

Urumqi from my hotel room window

Kasghar was once a desert oasis which becomes ever harder to discern because it is a 'special development area' and growth churns on unabated. The city still has a statue of Mao, the largest mosque in China, the Id Kah, and a vast open-air livestock market where yaks, camels, cattle, bulls, goats and fat-tailed sheep (or as Abdul-Qayyum indelicately named them, 'fat-arsed cheep') are bought and sold to await their fate. Rickety food stalls at the edge of this entreprenurial extravaganza are festooned with tripe, glassy-eyed sheep's heads, ropes of intestines, flanks of beef, loins of lamb and mountains of yellow fat from the pendulous, wobbling buttocks of the afore-mentioned sheep. Next to them are beaded donkey harnesses, woven leather donkey whips, and camel bells shaped like scrotums. Sage grey-beards in long coats and dopa, their traditional little hats, wander around hands behind their back gravely inspecting proceedings.

Kashgar's Sunday Bazzar, the livestock market

The day we left Kashgar a sandstorm hit which followed us all the way to Kyrgyzstan across the Turugart Pass. But the day after that the skies were blue; the whole population of Kyrgyzstan is less than half the population of Urumqi, and the Kyrgyz joke that the Chinese will take them over one day just to breathe clean air.......It's not that funny, the former Soviet Union used to send its party appartachiks to take the warm restorative waters of Lake Issyk-kul, just outside of Bishkek.....

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